Red in Our Ledgers
by foxinschlox
Summary: This world turned colder after you had gone... the least we could do was keep the embers glowing. Even as they are threatened to be stamped out for the last time. [ In which Yata Misaki succeeds as the the next Red King. MiSaru. With shortfics. ]
1. From the Desk of Kushina Anna

**Red In Our Ledgers**

* * *

_Correspondence from the desk of Kushina Anna:_

I can read them. They still wonder if I'm stable, if my nights are still void of sleep, sick with grief and terrors. It is understandable after being in the dark for so long.

So I've tried to make myself unreadable. The boys have worried over me enough. Maybe I ended up growing a backbone after all- possibly something you can be proud of. There are times I think a backbone is a useless thing to have. Seeing and feeling so many things that I can't control has always felt like a faithless struggle to me.

And I still keep my thoughts to myself. It is safer that way and I think that's what you always believed as well. We were never much for talking, you and I- one of the things I appreciated most about you. So many things; it stings to think of them still.

The child I was remains a part of me. It is as if I'm still clinging to your side.

But now it has become clear there was a reason I longed for the past so terribly. Bits and pieces of it are returning to us, at last. Did you leave us knowing this time would come?

Misaki Yata was chosen to rise as the next red king almost a full year ago. There is a long, hazy span of time from the day you left us leading up to then that I would almost rather forget. When everyone disbanded, after struggling to hold ourselves together, the scenery of the world changed. Even as a child it was like watching the dearest thing to me fall apart. A little girl without her family would be an orphan after all.

Only, I was lucky enough to have Izumo looking after me. You would laugh at the very idea, I'm sure. There were times when I felt cold and lost enough to give up, and his hand simply ruffling my hair would steady me, keep me going. Little gestures made all the difference. He kept up the bar just as faithfully, and pretended that everything was business as usual for the longest time. No one could fault him for trying to retain normalcy, especially while having me as a responsibility. It didn't feel strange at all, just sort of empty at times. A quiet life might have almost suited us.  
Still, I had gone so long without that soothing, gorgeous _red. _Is it so selfish of me to have wanted that back?

_Fortunately..._

His presence was so strong to me, even before the day Izumo received the call from that identified number. I had felt him from a distance. With fire in his eyes. Misaki would gather us together again. He commanded it. And the boys returned as loyally as they would to you. Even though they are older now, the auras have given them back a part of who they once were. It was like turning back time itself.  
I wish-

If only you could have seen him for the first time after all these years. With more strength in his presence than I could have ever imagined and the bearing of a man fierce enough to bare the mark of a king. Everything he put himself through after your parting from this world was a test of will, in that time when he was lost to us. It is difficult for him to talk about, but one day he will open up. I know it.

And he's so strict on himself now; self-conscious of the fact that he is so naturally impulsive. It is as if he's trying to live up to being worthy of the title you once carried. The one you did not even want- I'm not sure if he wanted this either. But that has nothing to do with being chosen, now does it?

He fears making any kind of mistake. You were never this tense; sometimes I fear he might break. But the old Yata is still there somewhere. Everyone knows that. He has grown to where he can laugh with us again at times, and that mouth of his is as loud and brash as ever. His red is lovely, like a guiding light, but hesitant now. I do wonder if his will ever come close to feeling the way yours did.

Naturally Yata has grown restless in forcing himself to be careful. It is only due to how long we have bided our time, waited until conditions were right- for our king to be ready- to assert our clan's position again._  
Will it feel the same? Being feared again?_

Our hearts can bear talking about you again, at last. He's given us the strength to remember and your name has become another battle cry of ours. We have not forgotten. That isn't possible.

We do not have the luxury of doubting ourselves now that the time has come. We are the lost children, returned home at last. I've read the signs and felt the warmth return to my blood.  
HOMRA will burn bright enough for you to see again, Mikoto. That truly is all we want.

.

The young woman sealed the envelope tight. _How embarrassing. All these embellished hopes and recollections._ Silently she tucked it away where no one would care to find it- locked within an unassuming cherrywood box on the shelf- just before a knock sounded against the door.  
She stiffened.

"They're here. With their _terms_," a familiar male voice came from the other side of the door, "at least that's what they're calling them."

HOMRA's princess would take her stand. If things came to blows that evening, well, it would be just like old times. Without thinking she smirked to herself.  
But no one would see it, not as she opened the door to find the entire clan waiting for her. With a congregation of old faces and new all around- expressions cocky, affirmed somehow by her presence- Anna could almost pretend she had stepped into the past.  
Even if his side was not there to cling to.

Daintily, quietly she uttered, like a prayer, "Let's give them hell then."

.


	2. Aggressive Diplomacy: Pt 1

**Aggressive Diplomacy: Part 1  
**

* * *

He rubbed the blood together between two fingers, fresh from where it had stained the pavement. Scorch marks scarred the walls of the building close by. Dark and ugly, they illustrated a man's erratic demand for respect.

The rival watch dog had struggled free of his grasp. Not nearly enough damage had been done; the man had escaped with only a wound to the side. It had been deep, but not deep enough to serve as a worthy threat. That had been enough to piss him off. At least there had been no one around to see.

Yata bared his teeth before letting a furious shout tear loose from his throat. One fist slammed back into the brick as he seethed with rage, leaning against the wall. His anger always came in these ridiculous waves. The power he had been granted only gave that kind of rage destructive potential beyond one's wildest imagination. A year had passed and he was still getting the feel of keeping the reigns on it.

The sound of unhurried footsteps followed as the last echo of his shout died away.

And then came the smug voice he'd expected- "Looks like you missed."

The young Red King rubbed irritably at the back of his neck, letting sweat dampened auburn locks of his hair fall into his eyes. Boyish shape still lingered in some features of his face. Only now he stood as tall as any of his clansmen, lacking the loose attire of his youth in favor of sharper, more mature image. His shoulders rose and fell as he took in the night air.

Kusanagi examined the scene in the insufficient light of a nearby streetlamp, but the bartender looked more or less unconcerned by their loss. After it caught his eye he reached down to grasp the hilt of an abandoned cutlass, disarmed in the fray that hadn't lasted all that long.

"You're kind of late to be making comments. I'm finished here." Yata wouldn't even look at the other man, his tone caustic.

"I'm kidding. Relax," Izumo quipped. It felt like that was becoming his most utilized phrase as of late. "The only thing that begs our concern is your keeping your guard up."

"What're you, coaching me now? Don't suggest I'm not going to be held accountable for showing mercy. Eventually," Yata growled. "The bastards must sense the smell of it on me. Gets them jazzed."  
He spat out the bad taste that lingered in his mouth.

"Funny, I don't see any evidence of '_mercy_' here." Izumo scuffed one foot against the bloodstained pavement. "You're overacting. Again. I highly doubt this will come back to haunt us."

Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. He wondered how long it would take for Yata to start off on some long winded harangue. The guy still really had a thing for pointless shouting.

Instead the King shot him a wry smirk. "I'm about as full of mercy as you're full of shit. With our luck it'll haunt us either way."

"Let's... drop the subject," the older of the two returned the very same look. Suddenly he couldn't help remembering the scrawny kid his new Red King once was. A handful of years had turned him into something far out of anyone's control but his own. _It wasn't quite the same this time around..._

Yata shoved one hand into the pocket of his coat, searching for something, and grumbled under his breath. Something about having enough of this idiotic game already. He already felt the gravity of a title that he would have rejected if he could.  
There were times he wished he could speak to Mikoto, more than anything. Especially in his moments of perceived weakness.  
He cringed again.

"We should go soon," Izumo glanced over his shoulder. "The boys must have the other two rats in a corner by now. Make a show of dealing with them if it suits you."

"I hate coming back empty handed," Yata's lowered voice ignited with another spark of anger. Wounded pride was not an unfamiliar injury. Eventually he would learn to block out its sting.

Without so much as a sideways glance, he held out a cigarette for the other man to light after digging it out of his coat pocket. Izumo obliged with a weary expression. It was always a good time to give up.  
There were many things the bartender wasn't- a fighter was one of those things, and so he had no better advice to offer on the matter.  
But no one could say he didn't have experience dealing with temperamental Kings.

.

Two men in those iconic blue coats, hands tied firmly behind their backs and surrounded on all sides by red aura; there couldn't have been a prettier scene to return to.

The entire room surged with excitement upon Yata Misaki's entrance. He'd come to pass his judgement on smooth, easy steps; the cigarette still hung from one side of his mouth. Taking his time, he exchanged a few words with his clansmen before leaning over their catch of the night.

'Messengers' employed by Scepter 4 were more often than not lower ranking clan members sent unarmed to discuss conditions that the blue clan was so fond of setting up for everyone else to comply with. But these two had been accompanied by an 'unnanounced' third member with a not-so-well-concealed weapon. The rest was left to the devices of HOMRA, who hadn't truly flexed their power in years.

"Your friend put up a decent fight," Yata spoke down to them.

"We had no idea he had been sent to follow us. The two of us came unarmed as custom, but it makes no difference," one of the bluecoats managed to bleat. He'd pled this story at least a dozen times after being roughed up. "It's just a formality. You should know this."  
The Red King only massaged one of his temples. Patience was already thinning.

"So where's this guy of theirs?" Bandō questioned gruffly from where he had one heel in the side of one of their captives.

In resignation Yata shrugged. "Bleeding out somewhere."

It was easier for him to gain composure with everyone else around. All eyes were on him; a good sort of pressure. In front of them he could smother his self-consciousness. They gave him strength. He still wished he could have proven himself by dragging the bastard back to answer for himself. No one cared to pin him for the mistake and for that he was grateful.

The only young lady in the room came silently to his side to look over the fallen blue clansmen as well. In the midst of all this Yata took time to greet Anna with a nod and his familiar crooked smile. It was all too easy to tell that she had him wrapped around her finger, like a precious link to their shared past. _To someone so close to them both._

"Miss Kushina..." breathed the captive whose head was lowered nearly to his chest. There was something peculiar in the way he said her name, the way he looked up at her, that made Yata _'tch' _with disgust.

The Red King grabbed him by both coat lapels. Suddenly Yata looked his fiercest, focused to a near paralyzing degree.  
"Eyes on me. It's my honor, personally, to be your biggest concern right now."  
He could feel the young man tense completely in his grasp. The other only scowled up at him.

Somewhere in the back of the room Izumo was shaking his head. If nothing else this was entertaining.

The captive kept at least some semblance of composure. "We only came to discuss the policies set forth in the circumstance of a new King's regeneration. For the wellbeing of everyone involved. If there were any con-..."

Yata cut him off abruptly. "Did they _discuss_ with you before hand that historically we've never given much of a shit about your policies? "  
Without warning the man was dropped to the ground. Formidable in presence, the young King's figure still loomed over him. "There's something else they've got in mind for us, isn't there? Seems like it'd be a good time to bust out the dog's teeth before it tries to bite again-"

A silvery sound cut through the air as Yata unsheathed the cutlass that had been left behind by their captives' comrade.

"Wait," Anna interjected, though she immediately touched a hand to her lips as if she were having second thoughts. Everyone's attention immediately fell on her, but the only attention that mattered was the King's.

She tugged lightly at the sleeve of Yata's coat and whispered something into his ear. At first it looked as though he wanted to protest, his brow knitting as he listened. But after she shot their captives a narrowed glance and mentioned something else to him under her breath, the Red King visibly conceded.  
The rest of the _'pride'_ would have to back off on his word.  
He trusted her to extract any information they may have need of.

.

She had Yata to thank for restraining himself; for making the call to keep the two in HOMRA's custody instead of sending them back immediately as another broken, bloodied example. A few of the others had grumbled about having them around, even for the rest of the night. It was right to suspect them for submitting so easily. Something was off about the entire situation.

Anna had been granted a few moments on her own with one of the captives after Yata had properly threatened him. The other had been dragged off, for her safety. This one seemed too green of a boy to attempt anything stupid.

"Your clan seems to be severely on edge," the blue clansman halfheartedly noted with his gaze still downcast, "like they're just looking for a reason to gut us."

"Don't concern yourself them- yet. You're going to tell me what I need to know." Anna's eyes met directly with his. The young man became intently aware of this and struggled to conceal his fixation with them.

"About what?" he squirmed slightly. The faintest tint of red came to his cheeks as she settled a bit closer with legs tucked neatly underneath her slender frame.

"Munakata Reisi."

He watched her play with a collection of tiny marbles in one hand. There was a certain reason she was going about questioning him this way instead. Normally so many words wouldn't be necessary.

The captive's forehead wrinkled for a moment before he was able to process anything. "Honestly, miss Kushina" he emphasized, "I don't have access to particularly private information that could be of use against him. There's nothing that could be tortured out of me; that's one of the reasons I was sent. Like I've said, I was only recently initiated into Scepter 4 on my older brother's good word. He's got more clout. I imagine I'm pretty dispensable to the Blue King as of now." He mentally chastised himself for sounding so nervous.

Anna shook her head, the tips of her long white hair nearly brushing against the floor where she knelt.  
"That's not what I meant," she spoke softly. "Does he ever speak of Mi-... the last Red King?"

Immediately he picked up her hesitation and watched closely as she straightened out her thoughts. This was obviously difficult to put into words. She had turned the question over in her head so many times, it wasn't as painful to think of anymore.  
"I mean, has he ever mentioned the circumstances of the former Red King's death? Anything _distinctive?_ He must have a written report somewhere... something detailed, with any mention of last words or... anything Reisi might have known about him that we didn't. Anything."

_She had been in the dark for so long. _

The Kings shared secrets with one another, even against their own wills. Of this Anna was certain. Only she couldn't help pursuing the truth, as much as she wanted let this all go once and for all. Something compelled her.

"More likely I know far less than you do." This particular interrogation was making little sense to the bluecoat. That wasn't to say he wasn't enjoying this lovely, merciful creature's presence while trapped in the lion's den.

For a moment she held her breath. The skirts beneath her dress rustled as she fussed with them.  
"Is there any way I could see him? Reisi..."

Her captive blinked with wary interest. The fact that she planned on only using him so blatantly slipped right over his head, replaced by other wishful thoughts. All of a sudden he was on board for doing what she wanted.  
"It may be possible with the right strings pulled. Though there would have to be an acceptable reason."

Under no circumstance would the clan allow her to meet with the Blue King on her own. Or with any of them for that matter. Yata wanted nothing to do with him. Not for any reason. Not even this. And Izumo had once insisted that pursuing more details from their side would be a fruitless endeavor. Truth be told, she couldn't quite believe that.

"My reason will do," she ensured in a clipped tone, "There are a several things I would like to ask him. Face to face. No one else can offer me the answers I seek."  
Anna wished, more than anything, to peer into the Blue King's mind.

A pause rested between them. She wasn't skilled at these kinds of dealings and spoke only when necessary on the usual.

"I need you to promise me your assistance. I'd rather not put you in a difficult position," Anna added with all the formality of a young diplomat.  
It was amusing to watch the color wash from his face framed with straight, wispy brown hair. Eventually he would find the words to accept her terms of release. Though she hadn't even asked his name yet.

There was no need to ask. _Benzai Yasu, brother of senior blue clansman Benzai Yūjirō_. With one of her marbles in hand she could read into him, into his purpose.

For good measure she would examine the other captive as well, though there would be no knowledge of particular interest to the King to extract from either of them. Yasu would serve her well, however. She needed someone pliant enough to manipulate, and this boy had been practically gift wrapped for her. And so she slipped him the sweetest of smiles for his cooperation.

No one would have to worry over her now. They were better off not knowing about the small fragments of truth she desperately sought. Anything to ease her mind.

Yata would come for her again, clearing his throat violently to break them up. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her. Or, at least have someone keep an eye on her.

.

_-to be continued-_


	3. Prowl

Prowl~  
A wasted!Misaki shortfic

* * *

It never mattered how many times he was berated for it, Yata would always end up drinking far too much. Even as a King, with all that newfound power, he was still at the mercy of his nature as a lightweight when it came to alcohol. No secret there. The only difference was that now only Kusanagi had the balls to tease him for it.

Consciousness had finally decided to return to him in middle of the night, waking him as it did. With some effort he steadied himself on the couch.

Yata had no idea how long he had been sprawled out there, though judging by the pain in his neck it had been a while. A throbbing headache and the unease in his stomach also served as reminders. With a grunt he pushed the touseled hair from his face so that he could make out the outline of the room.

The bar was empty of all the noise and commotion earlier that evening.  
Misaki Yata had been left alone.

The young King felt his eyes sliding shut again. No sense in trying to get up. Everything would be fine in the morning. Consciousness began to creep away, but then-

the heavy sound of an animal's growl rumbled from some dark edge of the room.

Deep enough to grab his attention, the sound jarred his senses awake. Yata's head was swimming and what stability he'd gained fled as he sat up quickly; hazy eyes scoured the darkness for the source of the growl that came again.  
Louder, closer this time.

Then there it stood: a great beast, eyes lit as if to cut through the dark and straight through him- larger than any lion he had ever seen. It had descended from the stairs leading down from the apartment above. The young King froze, unable to tear away his gaze.

Everything suddenly stabilized around the lion's presence. He was finally able to see straight.  
Its mane of firey red caught what little moonlight spilled in from the bar's front windows. Every roll of its shoulders, every powerful muscle under its pelt became defined in that faint light.  
The beast sniffed at the air as though it were looking for something familiar.

On silent paws it stepped nearer- only its gruff breathing making a sound- and Yata felt every waking nerve in his body and hair on his neck stiffen at once.

The beast lifted both surreal golden eyes to peer up at him with the most vaguely interested expression imaginable. Almost... humanlike, like it was waiting for him to say something clever.

Yata had to remind himself over and over of exactly who he was, he had nothing to fear, this wasn't even happening. . . _was it? Izumo would never let a lion in here. The hell's it think it's doing ?. . What am I even saying. . ._

After watching him gape like an idiot for a long moment or so, the cat huffed dismissively before turning tail and making for the door to the outside.

"Hey!" Yata shouted after it. Stumbling off of the couch, he suddenly found himself eaten up with curiosity. Enough to pull him out of shock and move his legs at least. _Something in those golden eyes._

Without any regard whatsoever the lion padded out into the street. Apparently it thought it could get away with ignoring him.

"Get back here. You're in the Red King's territory now," Yata threatened with aura showing, "I can't just let-"

Jowls opened to reveal an impressive set of fangs as the great beast merely yawned at him before continuing on its way.

He could only blink in response.

Was he actually attempting to argue with a huge exotic cat? For sanity's sake Yata conceeded to shutting up and following.  
It was easy enough to keep up with its prowling pace and soon enough he found himself walking beside it.

As they carried on he wanted to say something but everything he could have said sounded regretably stupid in his head. They walked so close together. The temptation to reach out and pet it's mane was dulled by how disgruntled it looked, so he kept his hands to himself.

The path along the street they took was easy enough to recognize. He'd followed it so many times with the boys. The was no doubt by then where they were going.

_Ah, yes. The nearby convenient store._

The Red King's eyes narrowed at the florescent lighting but that hardly stopped his companion from ambling in, despite the fact that he was a giant cat. With a sigh and a shrug Yata followed it in.  
_Why the fuck not?_

When the guy manning the front hardly blinked upon their entrance he guessed something was off, though he couldn't quite put a finger on what-  
That premonition he'd had intensified when the cat jumped up to place both huge front paws on the front counter. The beast grunted then shot him a look so unmistakable that it couldn't mean anything else.

Before Yata could process what he was doing he was buying a pack of cigarettes for a lion and a hot bowl of spicy noodles, because at this point he felt like he deserved as much.

The sliding doors closed behind them as lion and man stepped back out into the night air.

"It's on me. For old time's sake." Without a second thought he lit one of the cigarettes and offered it out to the big cat who somehow took it in his mouth, no problem. It sat there quietly and exhaled smoke from flared nostrils as if it were the most natural thing.  
Apparently it was possible for a lion to look so world-weary.

The idiotic grin that spread across the young King's face couldn't be helped as he dug into the bowl of noodles he'd just popped open.

It took only moments to feel pawing at his leg. A big, soft muzzle pressed against his side and he was nearly knocked off of his feet. The cat sniffed shamelessly at the steaming bowl.

Glancing down into terrifyingly large, golden eyes- obviously begging- he was certain he could feel his heart melt. The two locked gazes and Yata almost felt as if he'd been transported back to another place and time. . .

-But this was getting embarassing. All it wanted was food.

"I... I think I know something you'd like better"

.

They found him the next morning curled up on the floor with only a few empty to-go boxes of _karaage _scattered around for company.  
The sound of the bar tender's foot tapping with disapproval against the hard wood floor woke him, his face flushed, squirming a little and covering his eyes in the crook of one arm.

"Looks like my front door's been left open all night. Where the hell did you go off to? We thought you were out cold."

"Mm-Mikoto needed smokes... and chicken... no big deal," the King yawned almost incoherently.

"_Hmh_?"

"The lion," Yata mumbled as he was dragged back onto the couch, "had to be him."

Izumo raised a tentative brow. "Did he remind you to lay off the booze?"

"Yeah. I think so."

.

[ oh my god what did I even just write ]


	4. Aggressive Diplomacy: Pt 2

**Aggressive Diplomacy : Part 2**

* * *

"Will you be working late this evening, sir?"

"Not particularly. I have a meeting with a representative. Keeping them for too long may be bad for business. Have someone make fresh coffee."

"Very well. But I'm curious as to whether this has anything to do with their threat."

"It wasn't originally the intention, but I will address the issue. If he decides to turn civil on a whim and patch up the ugly tear in our communications, all the better. Nothing would please me more. Otherwise I'm afraid we will have to carry out an early check mate."

"No one could say we never gave them an opportunity-"

"We work with what we have, Lieutenant. As always. And what we don't have this time is a margin of error."

.

Yasu's motorcycle purred beneath him as Anna stared it down apprehensively.

Red silk bedsheets, soothing to the touch. The warmth of that familiar room. She could have just stayed there, forgoing the risk.

This wasn't only about her peace of mind anymore. The more rumors that spread, the more brazen Yata became in flexing his power- the more she understood that precautions had to be taken.  
_She couldn't bare to watch it happen again. Not to him, nor anyone else._

"I, um, apologize for not being able to borrow Yujiro's car. He needed it tonight... I'm really sorry Miss Kushina. They should have gotten someone else to pick you up. Really I-"  
Her unthrilled expression was making him nervous.

"That isn't my concern," Anna assured him in a far less than assuring tone. How could he possibly know what was on her mind?  
The fact that she had never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before would not help the situation. Even so, she was determined to appear the fierce HOMRA clanswoman she was, and climbed on without complaint.

He kept them steady as she put on the ill fitting helmet, long white hair spilling out from under it. From the moment they started off Anna clung to him tight, igniting a warmth in his chest that threatened to burn straight through him.

The ride was not as terrifying as she had expected. Buildings, people and lights sped by as swiftly as the wind that whipped against them. Everything blurred together and in the moment she could pretend that the Blue King wasn't the only thing left for her to fear.

Almost like a pleasant dream.

.

"Beloved little princess, down from her tower at last." Munakata leaned to peer out of the window at the motorcycle approaching the front gate.  
"This is going to take some finesse I'm sure. Likely she's turned out wiser than all of them put together..."

Reisi drummed long, slender fingers against his desk. The handful of years had hardly touched his appearance. Who could tell what had shifted beneath his surface; the man kept everything but business locked away within himself.

Without turning he could practically feel Awashima's eyes widen slightly from where she stood, ever present, at his side.  
There were always those things to expect along with the unexpected.

'_He's kept her under his wing all this time_,' Seri thought to herself , '_We'll see if the young lady you've raised can stand on her own now, Izumo._'

Their attentions couldn't have been further away from the figure that seemed to blend so seamlessly into the background; another constant shadow of the King.  
The scowl Saruhiko wore while Munakata's back was turned slowly crept into a wicked sneer of a grin.

He couldn't recall ever feeling so wired up, so anxious than in that moment. This is what he had finally decided. Anna's arrival would mark the end of his waiting, of all the waisted time, and of all those regrets that nipped at his heels.

The King could continue to play his long lost cause of a war game, but Fushimi would settle his own now. One that wasn't as much of a lost cause as it was certifiably insane.

He was willing to bet everything on one last wanton move. Win back the years lost.

As the turncloak reached for the door, almost unnoticed, he tensed at that voice he'd grown to resent, as Reisi gave the order:

"Let them in."

* * *

[and here's an in-between chapter. the next one is halfway complete. expect to follow this storyline through to the end since I have the reins on it now. as always, thanks s'much for reading.

- Foxy ]


	5. Cauterize: MisakiXSaruhiko: Pt 1

**Cauterize**

* * *

A tableau vivant: Two figures silhouetted against a distant, skywardly spotlight. One of them sat with legs hanging off the edge of a cluttered antique desk. Only the smoke from the end of his cigarette seemed animate in what light spilled through the window. The other faced him rigidly, slender build poised, as if a single movement would shatter the atmosphere of their first meeting in eight years. He would shatter it with a word.

"Misaki~"  
The name had grown sort of raspy on his lips, the sing-song lilt strained out of it long since. But there was still something coaxing in it, seeking to urge out something dangerous in the other.

"Don't."  
He wasn't ready to address this. It had taken his entire life thus far for him to understand that he never would be ready. Now was the time to put away the furious emotional of what now seemed like childhood to him. He had to purge himself, otherwise his clan would suffer. _'Isn't that what you still want, bastard? To see us all suffer.' _Already he was grappling for self-control.

"Thought you would have grown out of that tick by now..."

"And I thought you hated Kings," Yata faced him with a searing gaze, "begs the question've why you're here."

Fushimi rolled back both tense shoulders. For once, he was nervous, but none of it came through beneath faux-composure. "Everything's nice and simplified in that head of yours, isn't it?" The turncloak took into account from the strength of his aura that Misaki was no longer the boy he once shared a level battlefield with. He had grown into a substantial threat of a man. _This would be all or nothing at stake_

Eyeing that threat straight on, Fushimi continued, " '_King_' is just a term, like any other term someone might label something to understand it. But they couldn't hope to understand- you are an anomaly even among your kind."

His hands remained clasped behind his back, and he was already stepping around things neither of them thought they really needed to say. There would always be jagged gaps of failure in their communication. In truth that was the root of everything.

"Tch. Like I needed you to tell me that." Yata had long since realized that the man before him had always possessed the power to undo every ounce of stability he had. And so his guard was raised.

"You haven't needed me for anything for such a long time. There had been someone else looking after you."

That old abandoned office felt as though it would cave in at any moment. Yata angrily gripped the edge of the desk that held him up, bracing himself.

"I was never surprised his death disturbed you so personally. Enough to make you break every tie you had to the rest of them." Fushimi's words began to drip with suggestion, as if he intended to slice through his ex-friend with something much sharper than a sword. "Considering that you were one of the few he chose to warm his bed on occasion. Must have felt _special_. Even though you had to share him with-"

"_Shut your fucking mouth_."  
All of the composure dropped like dead weight from the young King's visage. The words came when he willed them not to, "Of course you'd be pathetic enough to rake that up. None of it was ever any of your business."

Even so, Yata could not find the core of his rage. He couldn't drag it out- not now, not when he needed it. Only his eyes narrowed at the cocky bastard before him.

The pain of Saru's own jealousy had numbed long ago, allowing him to tease so lightly. "Oh _Mikoto-san_... looking back I can't say I blame him for that. But we all move on, don't we?"

Yata could practically feel his own blood simmering. Denial, he knew, was a surefire route to falling prey to whatever the traitor had in mind for him. In the fashion of a responsible leader he would shove down his insecurities, everything he once felt, and steel himself. _He couldn't think of Mikoto now, for his own sake. He would understand._

"Tell me what you came here for or get out of my sight. Not sure what makes you think I've got anything to be ashamed of."

There was no answer, only that infuriating smirk that seemed to mock everything he ever stood for.

"_Well?_"

"I'd like to know the price," Fushimi spoke as easily as ever, "for reentry to the kingdom."

He had waited so long to lay everything down, and this was he only way he knew how; after spending so much energy trying to taunt Yata into breaking down for him. He'd always done it that way. The effect was too exciting.

"Your blood. All of it. Spilled." The King didn't waste a moment to bite through his plea for return.

Fushimi lowered his voice. For once he sounded fatally serious. "Odd. You had me believe we weren't playing that game anymore."

Yata could hardly believe what he was hearing; he was sick of being toyed with. A disturbed feeling came to his gut and it took a moment to register what was happening.

"The game's done. You decided to come back here to laugh in my face, so what the hell do you expect?" Yata twitched with bridled anger. "If anything I'd say Reisi's lost all his tact; he honestly couldn't pick a shittier way to get to me than through you, if that's what this is about. This conversation shouldn't even be happening."

Saruhiko subtly shook his head. "Addressing the facts and not kissing your ass equates to laughing in your face?"

His brow rose, though none of the severity left his expression. It was then or never. "No, I'm afraid I'm only here to lay myself at the feet of the man I wish to call King. It's abrupt, won't deny that. But I won't sugar-coat anything either, or waist your time; the last two Kings I've served meant little to me. That's all. Take away the colors and the power and the grudges they've kept- I want what's left after all of that. _I want the meat that hasn't spoiled yet..._"

Recoiling, Yata's disgust was written all over his face._ 'I'm still meat to you.'  
_How could Saru speak to him this way? If he were telling the truth, if this was what he actually wanted- how could he? The purpose of it all was lost on him.

That sly voice carried on, sending a slight tingle along the back of the King's neck with the preciseness of his words, "It all comes down to me being the one who's got what you need- I can be your advantage, having worked all the right angles. I've seen enough over the past eight years, been privy to so much information. You're going to need that, with what's coming. Not to mention I know more about you- how your _mind _works- than the rest of your clan ever will... that could end up being the most valuable asset."

"_What do you know?_" Yata shouted furiously in the moment he became aware of how close they were to each other by then. Neither would give ground. "I'd been gone all this time. Everything's twisted around itself now. Nothing's the same. Everyone's waiting on me. The last thing I need is you screwing around with what I'm trying to fix."

"You fear disappointing them? So they make your decisions for you."

"I decide who enters and re-enters the red clan. I decide its fate," his words were doused with spite, "it's my call to make. What's best for them-..."

"Reinstate me for your own sake. If you've got that kind of power."

None of this made sense to the young Red King. He quivered with the instinctive urge to lash out at the man before him. "Goddamn it, do you ever hear yourself? What made you think I would even consider taking you in again? Pissing on everything we stood for. Betrayal is betrayal. It's not something that wipes away easy like that. Not after you turned your back on him, on us. Everything."

Slowly as he spoke, however, it were as though he began to see the shifting meaning in those words. He would come to shift them around himself and with ideals of loyalty and trust like some hapless kid with his toys. The world had shifted, what Saru meant to him could have as well, now that they were older. He was wise enough to see through the act now, after all.  
But-

"_It was all for you_," Fushimi admitted, eyes closed, at last in a heavy exhale.

It was done. All of that arrogance he'd carried around as a younger man, all of it gone to shit in the moment he confessed. It was enough to make him long to die by his old friend's hand, by anyone's hand, by his own...

"It's always been for you. My place in the blue clan, the past, that _everything _is trivial compared to the potential we have together, here and now. You can deny everything but that, Misaki."

He could almost bring himself to grin up at the startled Red King when all the strength left his legs. He almost found it in himself to laugh at how shameless this all was. Yata's expression never once softened as the other man sunk to his knees before him.

"How can you say that with any scrap of dignity?" the young King tried not to choke out, failing miserably. It had sounded less pointless in his head. The corners of his mouth curled into a painful snarl.

"I don't. You're still such a child... if you can't see it."

Yata felt a cold sweat wash over him. Suddenly the moonlight entering the room was all too harsh. He was too closed in. Had it come to this so quickly because they secretly willed it to?

Theatrics were all Fushimi had left in his arsenal. His head cocked to the side, as if this were some kind of sick challenge. "Make me your vassal or kill me here. I swear you'll regret it otherwise~"

That teasing lilt suddenly appeared in his voice, reminding Yata of every single, solitary thing he ever hated about Saruhiko Fushimi. And he would hate and hate and hate... but if he let that go Yata would be forced to confront what lingered underneath it all. Retaining that hate could even prove fatal to everyone involved.

_'Make me your vassal or kill me here.'  
_ A ridiculous request from a ridiculous man who had finally lost what was left of his mind. Even so, Yata couldn't do any more about this than he could stop his own heart from racing in his chest. There was no way to fight someone who had completely given in. Fushimi surrendering himself willingly was something he'd never imagined witnessing. Without warning, it felt so jarringly satisfying.

A long, breathless silence stood between them. But in the moment it felt natural enough.

"Give me the fucking sword," the Red King demanded through a tightly clenched jaw.

Everything about what he was going to do would be painful. A deluge of conflicting thoughts pounded against his conscience; defiance, forgiveness, desire, regret... _This has to end- in order to lead them, protect them._

Head bowed, without hesitation, Fushimi unsheathed the cutlass hanging at his side. It changed hands easily; easy as it was to change colors.

With a serene smile plastered across his face, the traitor knelt on the dusty floor. Anticipating. The end of the blade came to rest on his shoulder, angled into the crease of his neck. Blood appeared where the edge met flesh as Yata gritted his teeth tighter and applied pressure.

"And the coat. Get rid of it."

Almost numbed from feeling the bite of the blade, only the sting of the Red King's gaze, Fushimi slipped off the uniform cloak of his former allegiance. Never taking his eyes off of Yata's, he spat on it the moment it hit the ground between them.

_You throw away everything so easily. But if I claim you, this time, it's for keeps~_

Yata slid the edge of the blade across the smooth flesh his exposed shoulder. Though Fushimi's eyes sealed shut at the pain, he could tell the King's hand was wavering. And then-

The crash of rigid metal being thrown across the floor, the breath going out of his lungs and the force of another man's mouth claiming his own. His waist gripped tight and forced closer by hands that had grown too powerful for their own good. Two bodies trembling together with need that had spanned such a long time. But the bite of the wound was still there, as was the awful taste of regurgitated pride in his mouth, having swallowed it back down.

Fushimi fought desperately to keep Yata locked in that kiss, but the King tore himself away only to slide his lips down the side of his neck. All the way to the cut that still seeped red.

The turncloak writhed at the feel of his new superior's mouth sucking on torn flesh. At the same time his touch wandered aimlessly. Clothing began to loosen with little effort to the gentle sound of the King servicing the most sensitive places of his upper body with wetted lips and tongue and teeth. Saru appreciated the way Yata's face still grew so terribly red every time he ran fingers through his hair. It brought him back to the way they once were, just before losing himself again in how skilled his new King's mouth had become.  
All of the pieces were finally falling together.

"For the record, I don't have any trust left for you. If this's your decision... you'll be dead before you leave my side again." Those words seemed to tear from Yata's core, out with a labored breath.

"Think I'll have something better from you than trust," Saru emphasized with the unsubtle squeeze of a hand on one of the King's inner thighs while the other played with his lower lip that he'd previously bitten into.

Senses flooded, Yata could feel something akin to that familiar fire blaze a trail from his manhood straight up his spine. It took a fraction of a second to abandon all thought, all precaution._ Let it go._

With eyes hazy from lust he would ghost his mouth down the other man's chest, who willingly offered more of himself once the front of his thin white shirt was torn open. Not once would Yata allow them to break eye contact. There were emotions he still needed to see break their way through. If any of it happened to be true.

"Just force me over and over- burn your wounds closed... open them up again..." Yata groaned softly between the workings of his tongue.

"_Please, my King,_" Fushimi's voice shook in reply, along with the predictable arching of his back.

What had begun as a rigid struggle melted together into something far warmer. Every movement, every brush of sweet friction grew bolder. Through their aggressive kiss Fushimi attempted to push him over; he ached so badly to climb on top. Though it was clear from Yata's bruising grip that it wasn't likely to happen. Their bodies tangled together too easily once the stronger of the two had the weaker pinned down.  
_Funny how things change. Tables turn. _

Breathy, shameless moans reverberated through once-stagnant air. Sweat began to drench them both. The hard floor wouldn't exactly be forgiving, but Yata didn't exactly feel like waiting to relieve a short lifetime's worth of frustrations.

Tightly, Fushimi wrapped his legs around the Red King's waist, digging boot heels into his lower back. At the same time he felt a warm hand slip down the unbuttoned front of his pants- grasping, rubbing, urging, from the very moment Yata found what he was looking for. The warmth of it all had been impossible to back away from. He'd have the bastard completely undone before long, plain as the blush that stained the young King's face. All for the satisfaction of watching Saru shudder and sweat underneath him, for having his name cried out what seemed endlessly..._ all for what exactly?_

After some blurry span of time Fushimi was more than half naked and all too pliant in his arms; the ragged panting in his ear kept time for long, fervent strokes and it required a good deal of control to keep them both from falling to pieces too quickly.

The two would carry on through the night, lost deep in something way past overdue.

Red aura flared more violently bright than it had in years. And not quite in the same way as before, Saruhiko Fushimi was granted the mark of HOMRA again. The telltale symbol appeared on opposite side of his chest from where it had once been.

~ all of this, and all that was to come, a host of ugly decisions.


	6. A Different Lion's Den

"_Ah, thank you_."

Steam wafted from the cup set before the Blue King. He had yet to even look up at her since their entrance and there was a certain stiffness to their surroundings. The woman she immediately recognized as miss Awashima smiled back at her with what she was sure was fake sincerity. It couldn't be certain.

Nothing was certain. Not here. This was a different lion's den from the one she'd grown up in.

In the midst of this Anna felt herself mesmerized by the way Munakata stirred a smallest portion of sugar imaginable into his coffee; it seemed not enough to make any difference at all. Yet he took a considerable amount of time agitating the dark liquid in circles. And his hands looked so skilled, so elegant. Weren't that they were the same pair that could spill blood just as easily.

The young bluecoat stood rigid at her side. Yalu was still uneasy around superiors and it showed, miserably. Of course he had been chosen to do a specific job, to appear a certain way...

"Leave us," Reisi dismissed him. And the boy went without a word, no a single gesture of reassurance.

It wasn't as if she needed that from anyone.

Anna felt her pulse quicken slightly once she sat alone before them. She was in the presence of one who had come to be among the most powerful men currently living, with both aura and political clout to reinforce his status. While Munakata had won fortune's favor, Yata seemed to be its byproduct. The cycle hadn't been broken yet.

At last the King lifted his gaze and spoke: "My, you have grown since last I saw you."

Despite how uncomfortable it felt to have him address her as if they were familiar, Anna managed to clear her throat and acknowledge him. In order to get what she wanted here she would have to get on a level field with him somehow.

"That tends to happen," Anna replied in the blankest of tones and watched the sly smile tug at his mouth. Even so, she had a feeling that no one here was amused.

Reisi wouldn't waste a valuable moment more.

"I was informed about the nature of your visit. Personal business aside, you've come at a good time," The Blue King's way of speaking was as flowery as she had expected. "We would be very interested in making certain negotiations with your clan."

"Possibly." Anna would be try not to seem too eager to comply. "But as it concerns me, please understand that I've had to be a little more than careful."

Seri laid a hand on the corner of her commander's desk and spoke deliberately, "They don't know you're here, do they?"

Anna shook her head simply. The Lieutenant didn't seem quite concerned, per se, but it sounded as though she were willing her to be cautious. The wrong words could make a hell of a difference.

"Just as well. I would bet they've filled your head with all matter of nasty opinions about me," Munakata quipped, eyeing a few of the papers in front of him from the file he had requested for Anna's visit.

"You are a man with a reputation," the young lady replied. "It would not be necessary."

Reisi let the tiny stirring spoon clink against the edge of the china dish as he set it down.  
"Speaking of my reputation... did it ever once occur to you that I may not be above holding you captive?"

"Sir!" Seri couldn't keep herself from interjecting. Her captain raised a stern hand, ordering silence as he kept a close eye on the young woman before them- a close ear on her answer.

Anna straightened out her skirt and replied with the emptiest of expressions. "Yata-san would burn this place to the ground."

That was the only answer he had expected.

"Faith in excess is a dangerous thing," an almost playful sort of condescension could be felt in Reisi's tone. "I would have thought you had learned that by now, at least."

"Too much faith can be what a lost cause needs," Anna recited. Were those Izumo's words from sometime before? She could have sworn-

"A lost cause," his brow rose, "or a dangerous one. Maybe there isn't a much of difference here. Your King is young and as volatile as we could have ever anticipated. The difference is that he is _trying_. That is something I could never say for the former."

"You may say the name."

The Blue King's gaze narrowed behind his glasses. Here this strain was granting him permission.  
There was nothing playful in his voice now.  
"It makes no difference."

It made a world of a difference. To them both.

Anna felt her own spine stiffen; her hands were very cold despite being tucked together in her lap.

"Did... Mikoto suffer, when he went?"

The King bristled, his eyes turned to the side and it took a moment to sort out an appropriate answer. Eloquence came naturally to him- until that name was involved. She could feel the momentary hitch in his composure before he settled into

"My dear, I'd never seen a more peaceful look on the man's face. For an old friend's sake, and as in everything I do, I made certain the job was clean."

_Clean._

She could feel the truth in those words. It wasn't enough. Nothing anyone, not even he, could tell her would ever be enough. To reach into his mind, however...

The King sensed the time was right.  
"There is something else-"

Anna watched carefully as Munakata's eyelids lowered. Every footstep resonated as he went to retrieve that something from a locked drawer on the far side of the room.

Mikoto's coat had been neatly folded and stored away, kept close where Reisi spent most of his time. It was that one possession that weighed heavy on his conscience, but it remained with him, a well kept secret, all the same. Some ghosts were not so easy to clean from the closet. They hid the the furthest corners and cast shadows all the same.

She couldn't will her hands to stop trembling once the Blue King placed the stained coat in her arms.

"I thought it would have been in bad taste to send this to your clan earlier. While the wound was still fresh- please, forgive me."

_You are a filthy liar._

There was a thin hole torn through the dark fabric, surrounded by a darker stain where the blood had soaked through, long since dried, and remained.  
Tentative fingers buried into the fur of the collar. With eyes shut tight and she could almost relive the feeling of his heavy steps below, her cheek resting on that same musky fur, the rise and fall of his chest. The scent of smoke clung to him as tightly as she did. Even with the boys making all manner of pointless ruckus in the background, she could never recall anything more peaceful. She was safe with them- with him.

Anna nearly lost the fight against the tears that threatened to show through her facade. And just as strong came the painful lump in her throat and the sensation that a world without warmth or red would swallow her up again.

At first Munakata balked at offering a hand on the back of her shoulder, and only did so because the strain looked as though she might wither with grief completely at any moment and crumble to his office floor.

"The formal statement was issued on that day, only an hour or so after the time of death. Perhaps you were too young to understand then. I do not think it necessary to defend my actions anymore than I have."

"I remember your _statement_," Anna defended herself curtly once she had successfully tamed her grief. She was embarrassed enough as it was. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

The Blue King's presence alone was beginning to infuriate her beyond the point of composure.

"And you thought you had a right to this," her voice cracked, and though it was small, it was heard. There was even a trace of spite in it.

Guiltlessly, Reisi turned his back on the young woman and looked to Seri as if to say, _'There's your answer. There she is, standing on her own.'_ His Lieutenant only returned him a cold stare. She had her objections, but Seri would wait until she could address Anna privately. She would make sure of it.

"There are things that you could never hope to understand," Reisi spoke severely over his shoulder, "and not because of your age."

For a moment after she swore she could see his shoulders tremble, face hidden from her view.

Anna wouldn't waist another moment.  
"Let me see the way it happened then, and maybe I will understand, maybe even just a part of it."

"You mean-"

"Yes."

Of all the things she could have asked of him, Munakata never expected anything so bold. It was impressive. And sure enough, the marbles were there in her hand. He was fully aware of the extent of her power; how coveted it was. How it could be of assistance.

"That is all I want. Why I came here."

Her strength charmed the Blue King so. It honestly did. Reckless, quiet strength... she may as well have been Mikoto's own flesh-and-blood daughter if she weren't so refined.

Anna fixed her eyes on his, bold and clear in spite of everything. Mikoto's coat remained tight in her grasp. "And it will prove that you have nothing to hide from us."

A long and dangerous pause followed those implications.

"Our cause is pure," Munakata answered her request with a certain nod and slight bow, laying a hand over the left side of his chest. The Blue King had experience slipping around suspicions.

Anna would play an integral role in his intentions for the reunited red clan.  
_If he were to protect them._

"But if you must, know this: I lower my head at a price. In return you will do everything in your power to persuade your clan into compliance with my suggestions. In _everyone's_ best interest."

He knew he was walking a thin line. It was the one he was most familiar with, however.

"My power," Anna repeated to herself, turning the little spheres in one hand.

"Granted to you as mine was granted to me."

"We are fortunate," Anna spoke quietly. Intense red eyes commanded Reisi back into his chair. His lieutenant watched with calculated interest. And he would allow the young lady into the confines of his mind- powerless within a vision of the past.

A burst of light.  
Stark white. Static air.

The blade.  
The blood.

The weight of the sword. Gone.  
The weight of the world. Gone.

A truth that was obvious all along.

She hadn't been deceived. There was peace upon that face, in amber eyes to hush all of the worry in her heart.

This was everything she wanted to understand.


	7. Cauterize: Pt 2

**Reality is never really a kind thing to wake up to. And still Yata couldn't help taking it in with eyes too wide for being so early in the morning. It was like coming to right in front of a train wreck.**

The memory was flawlessly sharp and with no alcohol or anything else involved he had no one to blame but himself. A wave of self loathing was the first sensation to slam into him that morning.  
The next was the body radiating with warmth at his side squirmed slightly with the disturbance of his waking. Saru's thin, naked frame lay partially clinging to him, both legs entwined around one of his own. It was a flawless trap. He was trapped.  
No way out.  
_No way out._

His brow was still damp and he didn't even want to consider how many visible bite marks were left on his pale neck and shoulders. A few of the wounds were too deep to be mere love bites and scratches– they would leave jagged scars in their wake as if it were the work of some deranged wild animal he'd tried to submit to his will.

The Red King dragged a hand down across his face, feeling the exhausted severity in every crease of his own expression.

After trying so hard to forget, the memory of their awkward struggle all the way back to his bedroom, very much after the fact, returned to him. There was an excellent chance someone had seen them...  
_Holy shit._

Yata took a sobering breath in before looking down to find Fushimi's head nestled against the side of his chest. That dark hair- kept shorter than it had been all those years ago- all roughed up, the dark bruise over one eye from where Yata had gotten him back for some snide remark. And he was just lying there, completely limp, but still breathing. As if it were nothing. As if this was how things were supposed to be.

Words of bitter rage that once came to mind every time he thought of Fushimi had been replaced by lusty cries and things that made him blush to repeat even within the confines of his thoughts.

"What did you do to me?" he muttered softly, curiously tracing the outline of Saru's face all the way down to his jawline. It was still a damnable mystery how things between them had accelerated so fast.  
And yet it was as clear as the marks they had left all over each other.

The bastard didn't so much as flinch at his touch.

"Open your eyes," Yata finally ordered. He wasn't having it; not today. The honeymoon was already over and done. "I'm not gonna' watch you pretend to sleep."

At least that got a response.  
"Charming," Saru groaned softly with a stretch of both arms that pushed his bedmate over slightly.

Yata shoved him aside to reach for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. Empty. Go figure.

That feeling of utter despair and loss reminded him of their predicament.  
"How are we even gonna' do this?" He buried his face in his hands; burying insecurities would prove more difficult.

There was the cheeky click of Fushimi's tongue. "Can you at least _try_ not to sound so pathetic? Try."

"I just- I wish we had more time. What if they can't deal with it, with you... fuck, I can't just-... _ughh_.."

"Make them," Saru folded his arms and replied in the most flippant tone of voice he could have managed. His voice was still a little sleepy. "Instead of tucking your tail, be your own god for once... the way you happen to be mine."

"Easy for you t'say," breathed the Red King. His heart panicked in his chest once he felt his vassal touch him and spill out his own sick brand of adoration again. "Not like I expect you to understand what's between me and them."

And Fushimi would stare up at the ceiling and bite at his lower lip. "No. I don't anymore. But I can't exactly remember anyone ever questioning Suoh's executive decisions either. Why should it be any different for you?"

"You know why."

"Misaki~" his vassal pouted, mocking him to his face, "is it because of me?"

"I was always in this kind of shit because of you." The muscles in Yata's back visibly tensed as he turned his back on the other man.

"Right. Me. The second in command you actually chose for yourself. That's something to be ashamed of. My sacrifice means nothing and all of this will be a magnificent waste of time."

Yata couldn't answer. He couldn't argue. In him was the want for someone of his own selection at his right hand, rather than only leftovers from Mikoto's pride. The very idea had a malignant undertone to it. He thought of Izumo, the others, all they'd done for him in the past, and guilt began to back him into a corner.

_Look what you've done now. Idiot._

Fushimi was slow and careful in propping himself up into a sitting position. Suddenly so many parts of him hurt, it was almost unreal. His brow rose at the other's sprawled out form. "Will you be up anytime soon?"

"Hell. No." The Red King growled. It was as if rolling onto his side and sealing his eyes closed would prevent him from having to face the world. He could stand to be a coward for the day. Or for the rest of his life.

"_Fine._"  
Fushimi swiped his glasses from the side table. Without a single glance behind he got up to throw on the remnants of his white collared shirt and pants, torn here and there in places. He inspected a missing slat in the blinds as well where light streamed through. It was peculiar.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" It Yata was already raising his voice. Shoving off covers he practically jolted out of bed, still completely unclothed, still a little disoriented.  
He managed to catch the other man by his sleeve.

Fushimi swatted him away with a defiant huff. Clearly he was more than a little sore and hadn't shaken the morning off quite yet. "Go back to bed. Thought it might do well for now to cover my tracks. Or at least get some air."

He almost had a hand on the door, but Yata insisted on grabbing him by the wrist and shoving him firmly into the nearby wall. It knocked the air out of him easily.

"It'd do well for you to fuckin' respect my orders," the King reminded through bared teeth, "-you're not leaving my side again. Wasn't being figurative."

"But you can't seriously expect-"

A firm hand came immediately over his mouth. The weight of Yata's entire body pressing against him suddenly felt more formidable than anything else he had ever come up against. It must have felt like something close to being at the receiving end of Mikoto Suoh's rage. There was something in the turncloak that constantly craved to draw out the other's violent power. Obviously. Every nerve in his aching, injured body, however, was trying to silence that need.

"_Nnn_-" Fushimi let out a frustrated whimper. He hadn't expected to become so well acquainted with the wall so quickly.

And Yata hadn't expected the bastard to knee him so sharply in the stomach. He only cringed, writhed and held tighter, creating more bruise marks on his new vassal's thin forearm that he'd pinned above his head.

One night hadn't done much in the way of improving communication between the two. It would be something to work on.

"If you so much as take a step out that door I will break you in half." Sounding quietly, calmly deranged, Yata pinned their foreheads together and forced his stare. "Like snapping a goddamn twig. I don't play frilly little games like your last King."

"Control..." Fushimi choked out, "...yourself."  
He finally laid a reassuring hand on the Red King's cheek. "Not going anywhere. Not anymore."

And he was released. He watched Yata's shoulders relax, watched him try to harness in his anger and cope with the fact that someone who was notorious for losing control was telling him to control himself. Once reason sank in he could only manage a sigh of relief that he hadn't incinerated the entire wall.

"These threatening binges of yours..." The turncloak never finished that thought he muttered under his breath, distracted by touching at the severe bruise over his own eye.

Yata's searing glare issued all of the further warning he required. Bare heels sounded against wood floor with his heavy steps. As he took the walk of shame back to the waiting mattress it hit him how fruitless his efforts would be if he kept clutching tighter, living in constant fear of betrayal.

There had to be a better way to maintain control.

A phone's harsh vibration sounded from the nightstand.

Hesitation overtook him just before he was able to unlock the screen and let his eyes skim over the message. Again. And again.

Fushimi's chin on his shoulder where he had come to read along only stressed him out more.

"Something happened with Anna?"

"It doesn't concern you."

"It concerns me now."

They looked at each other, plainly. Saru had reached for the phone and managed to take his King's hand in his own. This was the man he was meant to stand beside. If that meant deceit or spilling blood would be required to stand there, so be it.  
Ends justify means. He'd come too far.

Yata breathed in the scent of his lover- or second in command, or the demon on his shoulder, rather- and the dose of oxygen required to steady himself through what they had to do. If one thing was certain the Red King wasn't going to be sleeping obliviously through the rest of the day.

HOMRA would have to wake first before it could actually rise.

.

Someone must have assumed Kusanagi wouldn't notice the white luxury sedan that dropped Anna off in front of his apartment 1:30 in the morning. With a sealed envelope in her hand she had exchanged quick words with the driver before hurrying inside. There was no doubt in his mind whose car it was. So why didn't that give him even the slightest sense of relief? After all, it could have been some strange boy taking her home after sneaking out. Instead of confronting her he had slipped back to bed. _Don't make a scene. She doesn't want to see me either. It's been too long_, he vaguely recalled thinking.

And then it occurred to him that there might be others taking his trust for a joyride. It was only a harmless consideration.

Over a cup of burnt tea and two pills for his migraine the next morning he issued out a single text. A summons for his King. Urgent. If he even cared to answer.


End file.
